Ashes
by redraisin
Summary: Paige's first year at university is at an end. But as she returns home with a new boyfriend in tow old feelings resurface. Palex angst, drama, goodness. Continued in Rise and Fall.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: This fic is a Paige/Alex pairing set after season 5 and as such there are spoilers relating to them. I decided to have a go at writing a longer chapter-led story and it's turning into something of an epic, but we'll se how we go. This first chapter is extra long though, consider it something of a pilot episode. This is from Paige's POV. As always, feedback is most welcomed/appreciated.**

**Ashes**

Chapter One 

I let the wind whistle through my fingers like I did as a child. There isn't much of a breeze I suspect, but the speed at which we're driving, the whooshing feels powerful against my palm, all cool and refreshing. I smile inwardly; I'm nearly home again. I lean my arm against the rim of the car window and look over at Michael. He's so super sexy when he's driving, especially with his Ray Bans on.

He glances over at me and flashes me his boyish grin. "We're getting close. You're gonna have to direct me in a minute."

I look at the road ahead, it's all so familiar now. The trees, the neighbourhood. I almost want to hug myself I'm so excited. I haven't been back since Christmas. It was exciting then too, but in a different kind of way. I had only just started Banting then and still felt like a little fish floundering around in a very big and exclusive pond. I had spent this last whole year getting used to the whole living away from home thing, making new friends, figuring out who you could trust and who you couldn't. Messing up, making up, a couple of not so meaningful encounters and breaking-up. Oh yeah, and somewhere along the line there had been some studying thrown in there too. But eventually I had stumbled across Michael. He had been in a couple of my classes and we had been paired up to work on a project for our Organizational Psychology class. I liked order, he turned out to be pretty damn good at reading people. It was a match made in heaven.

And now I was bringing him home to meet the folks. And he was totally unfazed, despite my warnings. I couldn't bear the thought of a whole summer apart from him, but I thought that, being a guy and everything, the thought of parading him around my past might be a little daunting. "You'll love my parents, their super-nice," I had told him in between kisses." We were lying next to each other on his bed, another study session that had fizzled away into the summer afternoon.

"I'm sure I will, they made you," he said with a twinkle in his sparkling blue eyes.

I swatted his arm playfully, "don't over do it, mush-man."

He had laughed and pulled me closer to him. "Okay, okay," he conceded. "But what I mean is, don't worry about me liking them-"

"I'm not worried," I interrupted. This was half-true. "Well, not about my family anyway. It's just, y'know, a lot of my past is tied up in that place. My friends from high school, stuff that went on back there…" I trailed off. I wasn't quite sure what this feeling of nervousness was about. I had been seeing Michael for six months now. I trusted him implicitly and had opened up to him about much of my history, dating and otherwise. He knew about the rape, he knew about my student-teacher fling that had turned sour. And he had taken it all so well, never acting any less than a gentleman. He made me feel safe and secure. He was the first man to ever do that.

"So, what is it?" He asked, looking earnestly into my eyes as he ran his finger down my cheek. The gesture was so tender that it made me sigh. "You worried that we'll go for coffee or something and run into that Twister guy you used to go out with?"

"Spinner," I corrected him with a grin. "And you know his name."

"I know it's not a real name," he grinned back at me, before leaning in for another kiss that had put a premature end to the conversation.

And so he knew about my history with Spinner too. And had taken that in his stride as well. Because he was mature and confident and was with me and loved me and I loved him right back. This was one of those big grown-up loving relationships that I had read about, seen on TV, heard about from my mother. This was a sign that I was growing up. This was totally good. And yet there was this little tiny twinge in my gut. Or was it my head. Or even, dare I say it, my heart? Wherever it was coming from, I had chosen to ignore it, suppress the anxiety that was slowly clawing its way into my perfect present. This summer was about the future and looking ahead to a new beginning shared with the people I loved around me.

Michael knew about everything and he was still the man for me. What had I left out?

"And it's this next one on the left," I flap my arm excitedly as we pull into my parents' driveway. He turns off the engine and looks at me, trepidation mingling with curiosity.

"You ready hun?" I ask, my eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, let's do it, " he replies as he slides off his seat belt and comes around to my side of the car to get the door for me.

We leave our bags and stroll hand in hand to the front door. Before I open it I give him a final look and smooth his fringe behind his ear. His dark curls are getting too long and keep flopping in his eyes. It makes him look cute and younger than he really is.

"Thank you for doing this," I say as I give him a quick kiss on the lips.

"My pleasure. I love you Paige." He says smiling.

I beam a little with excitement and tap his arm, "Okay," I say as I breathe in and open the door. "We're hee-ree!"

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Look at you!" I run to greet Hazel with open arms. "You look amazing!" I hold her back and give her the once over. She is dressed to perfection in the tightest pair of jeans and a slinky off the shoulder number that I mentally note down for myself. "How are you? Oh my God, look at your shoes!"

"You like?" she says as we part to examine her footwear further.

"I love! Whose are they- wait we should get a table, oh my God, Michael!" I stop myself mid-babble at the sudden realisation that I haven't even introduced my boyfriend to my best friend yet.

"God, Mikey, I am so sorry. This is Hazel, my best best friend for years."

"Hi, sorry about that," Hazel gives an embarrassed grin as she shakes his hand.

"Oh, that's okay, I'm getting used to it," Michael replies.

We find a table amid the high school students and order some coffee.

"Weird isn't it?" Hazel says, looking around.

"What, being back, or being in the Dot?" I ask.

"Well both, but I meant sitting here. Y'know, amongst all these students. It's only been a year, but they all seem so young." She shakes her head in disbelief.

"Tell me about it. I keep feeling like I've forgotten to do my homework or something. That Spinner should be behind that counter."

Hazel raises her eyebrows at me over her mug. Michael is sharp enough to catch the gesture. I look over at him and then back at Hazel, "What? Oh no, he's okay."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Michael reassures Hazel as he drapes his arm around my shoulder and I instinctively lean towards him. "I know all about Paige's dubious past." He looks at me with a devilish grin.

"Dubious? Is that the word for it now?" I retort, but I know he's just trying to set my mind at rest. I have felt slightly edgy ever since we rolled on into town a couple days ago. I don't know why, so far everyone's loved him. Dylan and Marco think he's the best thing that's ever happened to me, my mother even made some thinly veiled comments about his future plans i.e. when are you going to make an honest woman of my daughter. I did have to kick her under the table for that. I mean, he is all I could wish for, but six months is still six months…

"Well, as far as I know Spinner is on vacation with Darcy, but he does still do shifts here," Hazel says.

"Really, how very retro," I say as we clink mugs and toast some of our memories that are still living on.

Michael excuses himself to use the rest room, although perhaps he secretly knows that I'm just dying to hear Hazel's appraisal of him. Like I said before, he's good at reading people. "Now that," she points at his retreating form, "is one good guy."

" I know, right?" I concur with a squeal of whole-hearted enthusiasm. "God, and I was so nervous about bringing him back home, but it's been great, everyone loves him."

"Why were you nervous?" Hazel asks as she starts to absently pick at the muffin that she has yet to consume.

"Oh, y'know, just that, what with my previous dating history, and now everything just seems so on an even keel, this is just the perfect relationship y'know? I mean, he treats me so well, and we never argue, well- I mean, sometimes we argue, like last week when we went to get coffee and I really wanted Timothy's and he wanted Starbucks-"

"Oh please, have you tried their Mocha-Java Decaf?"

"I know, to die for, totally. So anyways, Timothy's was all the way across town from where we were, so I, being the understanding and adult girlfriend that I am, acquiesce and say, I see the logic, let's go to Starbucks, but no he hails a cab, whisks me away, spends the remaining cash on it, escorts me all the way home without a word of complaint…I mean who would do that for me? Spinner might have once, but he'd constantly remind me every step of the way, I doubt Matt would have had the money for a cab in the first place, let alone cared and Alex…" I trail off. Damn, I hadn't thought of Alex for a while.

"She's in town y'know," Hazel states bluntly, as if it isn't the mind-numbing, earth shattering wake-up call that I have been subconsciously avoiding since our last encounter.

"She-she is?" I stammer before mentally kicking myself back into fully functional Paige mode again. "How do you know?"

"I saw her. Yesterday. I don't think she saw me though. I was getting into my car and she was across the street."

I'm still taking this in and barely register Michael sitting back down next to me. "How did she look?" I try and ask casually.

"Mm… serious, or pissed off. I couldn't tell. She was a way aways. But, like Alex, I guess. You haven't kept in contact I take it?"

"Well, yeah occasionally. I saw her at Christmas." This was sort of true. I bumped into her, literally, during the Christmas break.

Christmas had not been the joyous seasonal fare that I usually indulged in. If anything, running home had been something of a relief, a chance to lick my wounds after a disastrous term-long courtship between me and the cutest guy on campus. I had liked him, he had wanted me. Beer was involved. But in the morning he just didn't want to know. Why I had not seen him for what he was before I slept with him, I know not. He certainly had the reputation as a serial womaniser. But I was new to this life and I guess I just felt like I wanted to try everything.

But I had come back home feeling like an idiot, ashamed and embarrassed and unable to believe the optimism with which I spoke about my marvellous new life at Banting. All this was before Michael, of course.

I had gone for a walk one evening and it was absolutely freezing. The cold air had wrapped around my head, numbing my thoughts and helping to ease the pain. Just as I was beginning to feel better about things, to take in the beauty of my surroundings with the Christmas lights twinkling in the darkness, she appeared. Appeared and quite literally took my breath away. As we collided on the sidewalk.

"Shit!" she said at the hot chocolate that was now spewing forth from its cardboard cup onto the concrete slabs.

" I am so sorry-" I began, brushing myself down and looking up to meet her unexpectedly familiar eyes.

"Paige. Jesus."

"Alex." I had seen her before I left for university of course. Things had changed since we'd broken up. We didn't mix much socially over the summer before, but if we hung out as a group we could converse. It was sort of awkward because everyone was there and they all knew how things had been. Or ended rather. But somehow we both knew it would have been harder if the whole gang hadn't been there. Like now…

"It's really good to see you," I began. It was true, it was. At that point I was feeling totally sorry for myself. I had been stupid and as a result I had been used. I felt foolish, dirty almost. But here, standing before me, was the girl who had thought the world of me. Even though she knew our worlds were different. Too different. But in that moment just her standing there before me was enough to bring back the happy memories we had briefly shared. I needed someone to indulge me then.

"How've you been?" she asked me, almost stiffly it sounded, but possibly just because we were standing outside on the frozen sidewalk about to become human Popsicles.

"Oh, just…miserable…" I looked down at my feet. I didn't want to cry and felt dangerously close to doing so.

"Paige," she said softly and took a step toward me. Reached out her hand to grasp my arm and give it a reassuring squeeze.

It was only meant as a friendly gesture. I knew that. But the contact sparked a greater need. To be comforted. Comforted by someone who knew me and who knew how to give it in the right way. I suddenly flung my arms around her neck and pulled myself to her.

Instinctively her arms seemed to wrap around my waist, equally tight. "Paige?" she sounded confused. "What is it? What's happened?" She was rubbing her hand up and down my back. The familiarity of the gesture felt so reassuring.

"I met this guy," I blurted out into her shoulder. Her stroking seemed to pause ever so briefly before resuming. "I liked him, but he was a dick."

She gave a slight snort. "Yeah well, they usually are."

"Yeah," I agreed as I pulled my face away from her and rubbed my thawing nose.

We started to walk together, she with her hands buried in her coat pockets and me with my arm linked through hers. The closeness started to warm me and revive my spirits a little. Or cloud my thoughts, depending on your point of view.

She had asked about other things, my course, my new friends. She laughed at my semi-amusing descriptions of some of my more eccentric lecturers and did her best to appear sympathetic to my heavy workload. At last we came to a park bench where we sat for a few minutes as it started to sleet.

I huddled myself against her and looked up expectantly. But she was staring into the distance with an unreadable expression on her face. I took her hand from out of her pocket and wrapped her arm around me. "It's cold," I said in explanation as she looked down at me.

"Yeah," she agreed, making no attempt to remove it, but also not instigating anything further.

We sat on that bench for a few more minutes in silence. A nearby lamppost illuminated the breath emerging like clouds of smoke from our mouths.

"I miss this," I said at last. Alex looked at me directly then. Her eyes seemed so dark that I couldn't tell her pupils from her dark brown irises. They looked like two black holes, unknown depths, revealing nothing. "I miss you," I began again. It was true. At that moment it was true. Up until that point, my life had been filled with new beginnings, new possibilities, everything that Alex had wanted for herself after we had broken up. I didn't know if she had found it, but I certainly had. And it had consumed my time and filled me up and made me not think about her for all those months we were separated. But suddenly, there and then, on that blisteringly cold park bench as the snowflakes drifted between us, I wished back everything that had kept us apart.

At the time it felt like maybe she had leaned into me, but looking back I know it was me who had initiated that kiss. It started off tentative and soft. Our lips felt cool against each other in the night air. It could almost have been a friendly gesture, giving comfort to each other against the elements. But then she shifted almost imperceptively around, allowing me to embrace her properly and her fingers were in my hair then and her tongue was in my mouth, and she felt warm and everything seemed to resolve itself for one magical minute.

When we pulled apart her arms were around my waist and I was snuggled tight against her, my head on her shoulder. I stole a glance up at her, surprised to find her looking so melancholic.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" I teased her.

It had the desired effect as she broke into a smile. But here eyes still had that hollow quality that made me confused. They used to be so lively, mocking, sparkling, but never…why was she so sad?

"So…what now?"

"It's pretty late. And I'm freezing. I have to get home." She stood up as she said this, barely looking at me. "Are you going to be all right getting home?"

Not really, I wanted to say, perplexed and disappointed. I paused on the off chance that she might invite me back with her, but no invitation came and I sensed there was no point in me making one. Instead I tried to sound casual, keep things friendly.

"So, I'm in town for another week. Am I going to see you again?"

"Actually, Paige, this might sound like bad timing, or good timing, I dunno, but…I'm leaving for New York tomorrow."

"New York?" I was impressed. A million fashion requests flashed before my eyes before the situation reaffirmed itself and brought me back to earth. "Well, when are you back?"

"I'm not coming back. I've got a job there. I'm going out, to live."

"Wait. What? A job? What, but, what…" My shock and rising indignation fizzled as I looked at her. It was happening again, that expression in her eyes, my automatic presumptions. She was dumping me all over again. We weren't even together this time.

"It's an internship. For a publishing house. My cousin lives there and said I could stay with him for a while. His friend told him about it. I applied…" She let out a long and weary sigh as she looked over at me. I guessed that my face was anything but a mask to my emotions by that stage.

"Look, Paige, when we broke-up, it was for a reason, y'know?" she grabbed each of my hands as she said all this to me. All that I already knew. And I just nodded dumbly along. "I needed to figure out where I wanted to go, what I wanted to be. You already seemed to know."

"And…you want to go to New York. You want to be some city slicker, publishing executive…la di da socialite," the bitterness creeping into my voice seemed beyond my control. She didn't want me. No one wanted me.

"I don't know what I want to be. But, yeah, I want to give it a try. I don't want to just stay here. If I stay here, I'll just rot. I'll just be nothing. I need to try and do this for myself."

"Alex, you're not nothing," I said despairingly, not letting go of her hands.

And we embraced for a final time and I don't know if I was becoming delirious from the cold, or from the exhaustion of the emotion, but I kept on whispering into her ear as I clung to her, "You'll never be nothing to me. Never, ever, ever, ever…" until the tears started to come again and she wisely pulled back.

"You'll be okay, I know you will," she said softly as she held her hand to my chin and ducked her head for a final kiss, a mere brush of the lips and then she stepped back and our contact was broken. Just a few feet and already it felt like a chasm.

"Goodbye Paige," and she turned and disappeared, enveloped by the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"So what did you talk about? When you saw her? Paige? God I haven't spoken to Alex in ages. How is she doing in New York? Why's she back d'ya think?" Hazel continues to churn out questions absent-mindedly. Not really waiting for the answers. Which is fortunate, as I don't have any.

"Um, I don't know. Everyone comes home for the summer, don't they?" I say, flustering, but trying to regain some semblance of control over my stomach. Damn, why is it fluttering around like that?

"Well, yeah, if they've got something worth coming home for. So what the hell is Alex's excuse?"

"Hazel!" I snap. I don't think she means it to sound as bitchy as it does. Thinking about it, she's got a point. If Alex was serious about starting afresh in New York, why return here to a bunch of people she'd rather forget, to a mother she's given up on? Unless…figuring it was the summer, a time when naturally students flock back to their families to revive their finances and review their options…was she thinking of reviewing her options maybe? And…would that be a good thing?

"She musta screwed up," Hazels concludes her own diatribe.

"Huh?" My vocabulary is rapidly disintegrating as my brain starts to swell with possibilities.

"In New York. She probably screwed up her job or something. If she ever really had one to begin with. I mean, come on, it's hardly Alex is it? To go off chasing some big career and some pay cheque?"

"What? What do you know about it Hazel? Just 'cos she wasn't into high school, and didn't come out the womb with a roadmap as to where she wanted her life to go. Jesus! I mean, she had it tough, she's doing her best, she's not an idiot or something!" I can feel my skin begin to burn. I shouldn't be laying into Hazel like this. I shouldn't even be caring this much…

"Okay, okay, calm down. Sheesh-"

"I am calm!" I blurt out unconvincingly. I lower my volume a couple notches and try and rein in my rising indignation. "I just, I just don't think we should be talking about Alex like this, that's all."

"Okay, fine. We won't badmouth Alex- although that wasn't what-"

"Just," I hold up my hand to signal for Hazel to stop, "Let's just not talk about her at all."

Hazel gives a slight nod, with a look approaching something close to comprehension flashing briefly across her eyes.

"Um, hello?" Michael finally pipes up from his seat. "Who's Alex?"

ooo OOO ooo

"So…are we going to talk about this or not?" Michael's looking at me intensely with a barely concealed glare.

I had managed to manoeuvre him into a rather rushed exit from the Dot, followed by a rather uncomfortable drive back to my house.

Who's Alex? How could I have that conversation with him there, in that place, our old stomping ground, in front of Hazel. I didn't think it would be that big a deal when I finally told him, and yet somehow I deliberately, if perhaps subconsciously had avoided talking about her to him all this time. I'd never even mentioned her name. And now he was pre-empting it.

"Oh, a friend," I had said as innocently as I could. But my even and casual tone had somehow got strangled in my throat and turned into a high-pitched squeak.

Hazel had cottoned on immediately and done the polite thing and played along when I had a suddenly-remembered early dinner appointment.

But Michael, he wasn't going to play along. He wanted the truth from me. I don't know why I was so afraid to give it to him. He had handled worse from me. I mean, we were in love, and this was old news, it shouldn't matter, right?

"Paige," he walked towards me as I perched on the edge of my bed in my old bedroom. Suddenly I felt like a little girl again. A child who'd scraped her knee or got her first period or something. I needed that sort of consolation that everything would be okay.

He sat down next to me and exhaled loudly, I could see his jaw tightening against his will. "Look, just tell me. Whatever it is, I can't understand or begin to understand if you won't talk to me."

I looked up into his eyes, almost pleading that he would let it drop. I wasn't ready to tell him. He was too important and this could mess everything up.

I just sat there for a while, beginning the conversation a thousand times in my head, but the words stopping just short of my lips.

"Christ! Talk about suspense! Is it really that bad? Come on, you're scaring me now." He had got up in frustration and was scraping his hair back violently off his face, looking up at the ceiling.

"No," I mumbled, "Well, it depends on your point of view I guess…"

"This girl, Alex. Did she do something to you?"

I inadvertently let out a half laugh as I shake my head.

"Did she do something to Hazel?"

"No, no. We were friends. All three of us. Well, I was friends with her first and then gradually she and Hazel, just… sort of, accepted each other."

He walks right over to where I'm sitting and stands over me, but I refuse to meet his gaze. "And what was there to accept Paige?"

God, I didn't want this. I didn't want to feel this way, not over Alex. I didn't want to tarnish the memory with guilt, but somehow that is what I am feeling.

"Look, can you just stop psychoanalysing me for five seconds!" I suddenly snap out at him angrily.

"What? Because I'm concerned, because you're clearly uncomfortable with something you've done, or something someone else has done and you're refusing to tell me!" His voice is rising now, he never yells, he's not that kind of guy. I know that I'm getting to him with this. Stupid. Stupid!

I get up to leave the room. I start to feel claustrophobic and the instinct to run is all too tempting. But with one hand wrapped around my wrist he stops me.

"Let go of me!" I warn, half angrily, half out of desperation.

"Just tell me!" he implores.

But I'm still struggling for words. I hadn't planned how this conversation would eventually arise, maybe I could have just slipped it in casually. Maybe we could have just laughed it off together, maybe I should have told him when I told him about the others…maybe…

My thoughts begin to blur and I can feel an unexpected lump in my throat, I can't believe I'm fighting with him, and over this of all things!

"What did she do to you?" He fires at me.

"Nothing! Nothing!"

"Why are you crying then? Paige! Why are you fucking crying then?"

The tears really do start to flow then and I can't conceal them anymore. "Because you're yelling at me!" I half screech half sob back at him, "Because you're yelling!"

"I just want to know!" he persists, but it sounds more in desperation than anger now.

"We were lovers!" I blurt it out like machine-gun fire. Quick, loud and brutal. "We were lovers, alright!"

He lets go of me then like he's received an electric shock. I try and calm myself and stop my tears before I turn and face him.

He can barely look at me, that's what stings me. He's looking everywhere around the room, but at me.

"Why couldn't you have just told me that Paige? Why?"

"I don't know," I shrug, "I didn't think it would matter."

"Well, you seem to be getting pretty damn upset over something that doesn't matter."

Okay that's a fair point I guess. And perhaps this just fuels my confusion. "Well, I guess, I didn't want it to matter."

"This girl. Were you, I mean, are you…" he's fumbling to find the right words and it's painful to watch, painful to feel.

"Look, I've never been attracted to girls, okay? Just Alex."

"But, you were. I mean, you were in love with her?" He has a strange expression on his face. Not that kind of pervy-guy thing that so many of them seem to get which is just gross, but he seems conflicted as to whether he should feel threatened or impressed.

"Alex and me were never going to work out. We are two totally different people.

But she was my girlfriend for a while and yes, I still care about her." I walk towards him now and reach for his hand that hangs by his side. "But I love _you_, Michael. You and no one else."

I'm staring into his eyes, hesitant as to whether I've just pushed things forward or messed everything up for good. But when he leans down and kisses me softly I get my answer.

"Well thank god for that," he says breathing out the tension and we both smile for the first time.

He wraps his arms around me and I feel reassured once again. I squeeze him back and then snuggle into his embrace as my tears finally dry away completely. He gently strokes the back of my head. "So, is there anything else? Or is that really everything now?" He says smiling into my hair.

"No, that's pretty much it," I mumble back. Pretty much.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Everything seems to be resolving itself now. Just getting that little revelation off my chest has made it all fine again. I guess this was what my twinge was about. How stupid. To think that Michael would dump me just because I went out with a girl. I knew he wasn't like that. That was the whole point in going out with him in the first place. His attraction lay with his level-headedness, his ability not to spontaneously combust if we hit a rough patch.

It's strange, I can't imagine him ever leaving me now. If, God forbid, this was to end- which it won't- but if it did, then it would be down to me I reckon. I would be the one to walk away. I must be totally conceited to even think like this. But I suppose I don't mean it in that way. I just can't imagine Michael doing something he's not totally committed to. He's so deliberate in his decisions, so grounded. It's fantastically refreshing. He's nothing like…anyone else I've dated…like Alex…

"What are you thinking?" he whispers fondly, breaking my reverie as I lay in his arms.

Well, after those kind of moments you've gotta spend the whole day showing each other just how much you love each other. It's practically a rule or something.

"Isn't that meant to be my line?" I reply, playing for time. What was I thinking about?

"Is it?" he laughs. "Oh okay. Guys don't care what goes on in their girlfriends heads."

"That's right," I say with a grin as I roll on top of him. "They just care about having their way with them and then going to sleep."

"Hey! I'm not asleep. You're the one who's looking tired." He wraps his arms around me.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah."

"So maybe I am."

"Good."

I smile into his chest and then rest my head there. I can hear his heartbeat rhythmically thumping against my ear and it feels solid and reassuring, like we're connected through it.

"Paige?"

"Yes hun?" My eyes are closing and I can feel myself slowly drifting off in the afternoon sun, which is making everything in my room look soft and golden.

"You know before…"

Uh-oh. Before? Before as in our hours of lovemaking or before before, when I spewed forth my little girl-girl disclosure.

"…When you said she was the only one…" he sounds uncertain as to what exactly he wants to say and God knows I don't want to prompt him any further. But at the same time I suppose it's natural to have questions. Questions that may or may not deserve answers.

"She _was_ the only one," I mumble, not raising my head from his body, still trying to sound casual.

"So you never thought, that maybe you'd like to go out with a girl again?"

I don't answer this for a while. Naturally I want to be honest with him now. But there's honesty and then there's diplomacy. And the new adult Paige is working hard to make these both work in symbiosis.

"Well, it's not that I _decided_ never to go out with a girl again. It's just, I didn't meet a girl that I felt like that for."

"So? What does that mean? Do you think you're bisexual or something?"

"What? No," I slide off him now and so I can look more easily at his face. This wasn't really the kind of pillow talk I was after. "I mean, I don't know. I haven't thought about it that much. I haven't thought beyond you."

"It's just that, maybe you are, y'know? I mean, first you go out with some girl from high school and then you kissed Cynthia at that party."

"What! Michael, that was on New Year's Eve," I say in exasperation. It's almost funny, but his probing is starting to get a bit annoying now too.

"So, it doesn't count 'cos it's New Year's?"

"No," I roll my eyes at him exaggeratedly, "It doesn't count because we were both being drunk and stupid."

"So that's it? You don't wanna try and figure this out any further?"

"What's to figure out?" Now I am getting pissed off. I know that I should be treading gently with him, he's the one who's had the shock and all, but I can't take this questioning. It sounds almost like an interrogation.

I sit up in my bed, the thought of snuggling now the furthest thing from my mind. "What is this Michael? I've told you it's all about you. That I want to be with you. I thought, if anything, this afternoon should have proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt."

"Oh right, is that what that was? Now you have to sleep with me to prove your straight," he's sitting up too, his face quickly losing all its boyish charm as streaks of hurt cloud his eyes.

But his words are equally bruising to me. "Of course not!" I say, offended by the mere notion that he can doubt our intimacy.

He just shakes his head and starts to pull on his jeans, saying nothing and refusing to look at me.

"Michael! Michael!" I repeat in frustration, not used to this, his back like a wall, his face like a fortress.

At last I snap in exasperation. "Well what would you prefer? Shall we have a threesome? You can prove to me how gay I apparently am! Huh? Is that what you want? Would that turn you on?"

He looks at me finally as he tugs his t-shirt on over his head. I've never seen that expression on him before and it makes my heart plummet into my stomach.

"I need some space, okay? I'll take my car."

The sound the door makes as it closes behind him seems ridiculously clinical. A small little click and he's gone and left me sobbing on my bed. It's moments like this where there's a need for dramatic door slams, so their echoing can reverberate around the room and underscore my isolation.

But instead I'm left here just feeling small and pathetic. Like somehow I just lost the winning lottery ticket because I left it in my jeans when I put them in the wash. How did that happen? How do I go from being on top of the world to the brink of despair in three seconds?

I hug my knees to my chest and try and relive our stupid conversation. Could I have worded things better? Was it him being unreasonable? What were we fighting about really anyway? And why, having not properly argued in our entire time together had I ended up in tears because of him twice in one day?

Maybe I know the answers this time. But even in knowing them, knowing what to do next- well, there's a predicament and a half.

And so eventually, there seems to really be only one glaringly obvious thing to do. After much wailing and gnashing of teeth I haul my ass out of bed and back to the real world. Down the street, into town, searching, desperately searching, until I find the loving arms, there it is, of Ben n' Jerry's.

Well, if he's going to come over all clichéd threatened male on me, I can match him with my own little eating though the pain escapade. I hand over my money to the cashier almost proudly, the fact that I'm martyring out my body for the sake of my man's love no doubt blindingly apparent by my purchase of not one, but two tubs of ice cream.

I walk back a bit more forlornly to my car. There's still so much to sort out. I know we will sort it out, it's just…this fighting with him is all so unexpected. Everything was going so perfectly. I almost wish that we hadn't come back. Then there would never have been an argument, I wouldn't be facing the inevitable 5lbs bulk I would undoubtedly add to my hips, I wouldn't even be thinking about-

"Alex." I actually say her name out loud to myself. There she is, in all her raven haired dark and brooding glory. Just walking down the street, being Alex, unaware that she is causing my world to fall apart. Right, it's time to talk.

She sees me approaching and instinctively I smile at the sight of her. But rather than return my greeting I see her defences going up, like a caged animal. A weariness is there, somehow she seems to have aged beyond her years. Maybe it's helped by her now formal and totally sharp attire.

"Hey you," I begin, feebly punching her arm. "I heard you were back in town."

She nods in response. "Yeah. You?"

"Oh, just for a month or so, y'know can't slack off for too long. Plus, my God, university has left me totally bereft finance wise-"

She barely hides her impatience as I stumble blindly on. I thought this meeting would be uncomfortable, but I didn't think we'd both be so obvious about it.

"So yeah," I continue my descent valiantly, "I've gotta go back to Kingston, get a job up there for the rest of the summer, maybe stay at Michael's for a bit…" What! What! That was dumb! Why the hell did I bring him into this conversation?

The pause in my babbling prompts her to ask, "Is he your boyfriend or something?" not really sounding like she cares about the answer. I guess she saw it coming.

"Yeah," I say. Another awkward pause and then, "yeah," I repeat, this time not so certain.

She's folded her arms in front of her chest now and is looking for the nearest exit from my presence. I know I should just let her go, it seems cruel to prolong this any more then needs be. But I haven't seen her in so long and, despite the obvious discomfort, she looks damn good. Damn good and tailored suited. New York must be agreeing with her.

"So, what have you been up to? I haven't seen you in ages?" Yeah, not since your tongue was down my throat.

"Working."

"Uh-huh." I almost expect tumbleweeds to go rolling past between us.

"Look, Paige, I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I really do have to go."

"Oh, okay. But, hang on a sec, I haven't talked to you in ages. You just go racing off to New York and now you're back you can't even spare me five minutes?"

"Okay, first of all, I didn't go racing off anywhere. You left first, remember? I know that doesn't count 'cos it goes without saying that Paige Michalchuk would flee this pit and go on to bigger and better things and when I do it it's running away. And secondly, I was in New York, okay, not…not… fucking Siberia. They do have phones there y'know. You could have called me any time you wanted if you were that bothered about how I was doing."

Needless to say, I am not expecting this little outburst. Her eyes look like they're on fire and it makes me think of how she used to be when the whole world was her enemy and she was a hardass.

"I think they have phones in Siberia now too," I offer lamely, trying to dilute some of the tension.

"Whatever. Look Paige, I'm glad your life is coming up roses for you, I have to go now."

I can't stand this. This is the bullshit that Alex used to offer as a means of defence. Shut the whole world out. I never could resist a challenge.

"So that's it now," I counter as she turns away from me. "Alex Nuñez, badass extraordinaire, back in black and hating the world! Hey, what'd you come back here for anyway, huh? If you're so determined to blank everyone?"

"A funeral," she replies as she's walking away.

I pause for a millisecond, desperately trying to yank my oversized foot from my mouth. "Alex-shit! I'm sorry-Alex!" I'm calling after her now, but she's leaving and not looking back. "Who-?"

"My mother."


	4. Chapter 4

I didn't know I was capable of standing still for so long. I felt like someone had pressed pause on just me, while the rest of the world continued to function around my frozen form.

And now I'm trying desperately to push play, or better yet, rewind so I can take it all back. Just all of it. All of my stupid, self-involved rantings. All of the hurt she's ever had to feel. All of the tears that have ever been spilled because of me.

Well, this is certainly typical now isn't it? Once again, I'm making it all about myself. But I honestly don't know what else to do. The sound of her voice with those departing words. My mother.

How could I not have seen that she was upset? Down right devastated even. That was more than anger when she went off at me, that was Alex's coping mechanism.

Eventually the colour returns to my surroundings and I realise that I haven't moved in an age and my ice cream is busy defrosting through the bag.

"Shit!" I exclaim as some of it drips through the paper and onto my jeans.

Normally this would be a crisis worth bemoaning my entire day over, but in light of the recent events it seems almost tragi-comic. I fumble for the keys to my car and plunk myself behind the wheel. But the effort to turn on the ignition seems exhausting. Thinking seems exhausting. I grip the wheel with both hands and lay my forehead against them and start to weep.

Finally, not for myself. But for everyone else. For Michael, for him trying so hard to understand, but not knowing where to begin. And for Emily Nunez. For whatever it was that had taken her life away from her. For the fact that she had had to exist in the world as a victim, and be brutalised by men who would never love her. And for being so worn down by it all that she couldn't even leave for the sake of her own daughter.

But mostly I cried for Alex. For all that she deserved and had never been given.

ooo OOO ooo

The rain was coming down with increasing ferocity now. I give an almighty sigh as I lean against the windowpane of our living room. It's evening now, and my despairing mood is sliding into an ever-increasing wearisome anxiety. Where was Michael? He has yet to return and I begin to miserably contemplate if he will bother coming back at all.

Surely, he will though. He's left all his stuff here after all. It's moments like this when we should be pulling together isn't it? Although, given the circumstances of our fight, I'm not quite sure how this tragedy will play out with him. But Michael is nothing if not compassionate. Yes, he's feeling hurt by me, betrayed maybe. But if he sees that I'm in pain for Alex, for her devastating loss, then even he can put aside our troubles for now.

I'm hoping this is true. But I'm honestly not sure. One thing I know is that I have to see Alex and clear things up with her. She really is on her own now and it shouldn't be like that. I need to see her and speak to her and tell her that I'm here, but I'm not sure how. Will she even want me around at the moment? She had sounded so bitter about our lack of contact when she laid into me on the street. Was that more than just grief?

Dammit, I know I let her down, but maybe I can't do this, maybe this is one lesson you just can't prepare for. How to console your grieving ex over the death of the only family in their life.

I begin to wonder where she is right at this moment. If the funeral were today, then it would be over by now. What happens next? A wake? Arrangements of some kind? This is when family members gather together to share their memories and their grief. Who was Alex sharing those with? With Chad? With Jay?

My God, was I reduced to second place behind a bullying surrogate father and a cheating ex-boyfriend? Can I really just stand here and leave Alex in their doubtlessly less than capable hands.

So I decide to call her while the adrenaline is giving me a little upsurge of courage. But as I grab the phone and shakily start to dial her number the room becomes illuminated by two blinding bright headlights turning into the driveway. It's Michael.

I rush to the front door and open it quickly to usher him out of the rain. Just a few paces and he's already soaked, it's now coming down that hard.

"Where have you been?" I blurt out hopelessly.

He says nothing as he sloshes in past me. Of course, he left without a jacket. I follow him into the kitchen, barely containing my impatience for an answer.

"Do you have a towel or something?" he asks distractedly, looking around.

I fling the nearest kitchen rag at him and start pacing as he presses the cloth to his face and shakes his hair like a dog.

Usually I would berate him for this kind of action, but there are bigger issues at hand. Much bigger issues.

"Michael," I try again, "please tell me what's going on. You've been gone for hours."

He leans against the kitchen counter with one arm and exhales loudly, looking for all intent purposes like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I know," he conceded, "I'm sorry."

There's a deafening silence for a minute, whereby he just poses like that, looking like he's in the middle of a decision, while I nervously shift from one foot to another, waiting for him to offer up something more.

"I just really needed to think things through properly. And I needed space to do that. I'm sorry to make you worry. There was a lot going through my mind." He shakes his head again distractedly, water dripping from his flattened curls. "I need to know Paige. I need to be sure that what you feel is what I feel. Otherwise…" he trails off sombrely.

Normally I would rush to reassure him. Because I would be certain myself and would want to see that reflected back at me, like I know it always is with him. But suddenly the weight of this conversation just seems too immense, like I'm being forced into some sort of decision.

"Look, Michael," I begin tentatively, desperately trying to quell the trembling in my voice, "it's been a really long day. Long, emotional, and I'm just afraid to say anything right now because every time I do it goes wrong. I just can't deal with any of this right now. I'm sorry, please can't we just…" I hopelessly let the unfinished words just hang there.

He stares at me for a while before coming over and putting his arms around me. "Can't we just, I dunno, have a cease fire or a timeout or something?" I plead.

"Okay," he says stoically, kissing the side of my head, before resting his chin on top of it. "We can do that."

"Thanks," I mumble gratefully. I know how he must have wanted some sort of resolution, but I couldn't give him one tonight, not with all my thoughts and emotions waging war with each other.

"You like tired," he says to me.

"So do you."

"You wanna just chill out tonight then?"

The offer is so tempting, to just sit back and relax, eat a pizza, watch some mind-numbingly dumb movie and forget everything for the day. But Alex propels herself to the forefront of my mind again. How can I just pretend that everything is fine while she's going through hell? I can't do that. I owe her more and she deserves so much more.

"Actually," I push my hand flat against his chest and gently extract myself from his embrace, "I had some really bad news while you were out. My friend- one of my old friends, I just found out their mother passed away, and I said I'd go over there. I really need to be there for them right now."

"Oh," he says in surprise, perhaps tainted with a degree of suspicion. But then, "Oh God, that's awful."

"Yeah, yeah it really is," I agree with him, already planning the lie. Is it right to lie this time?

"Well, where does this friend live? Shall I drop you off or-"

"No," I say forcefully, perhaps a little too rushed. And then, "I honestly don't know how long I'm gonna be so I'll just drive myself. Will you be okay on your own for the evening? God knows where my brother is, but I can give him a call if you want to hangout or something."

"Nah, don't worry about it," he shakes his head gently, "It _has_ been a long day. I don't know if I'll be up too long."

"Well, if you're sure," I mask my relief that I haven't had to actually lie yet.

"Yeah, you go see your friend. Send her my condolences. Is it a her?"

God, I should just tell him now, get everything out in the open for good. "Yeah, her name's Carly. You haven't met her."

Or heard me mention her ever, because she does not exist.

"Not one of your Degrassi crowd?"

"No, we –er, we were in tap class together when I was eleven. She went to private school and, anyways," I start pretending to look for my jacket.

"Well I hope she feels better with time," he offers, oblivious to my deception, which only serves to make me feel sick.

I eventually find my coat, but no umbrella and so give in and decide to risk the two-second dash to the car.

"I'll see you later then," Michael says as he walks with me back to the front door.

We share a brief, slightly awkward kiss, our premature parting becoming more apparent in my mind. I'm blowing my boyfriend off for my ex-girlfriend. I know that's not how it is. I mean, if ever there was a reason to do that, then surely this is it. But this could be how he would interpret it. Best not to tell him, not yet anyway. I'll just go and see how Alex is first. Maybe I can even introduce them eventually? Baby steps, Paige, I'll go and see how she is first.

At that moment a wave of fear washes down over me at the most difficult of meetings that is yet to come. I don't actually know what to say to her or what she needs to hear. I briefly consider turning back, waiting for a new day when I'm thinking more clearly and haven't suffered two bust-ups with my boyfriend. But there's always the possibility she won't be around tomorrow, she'll have just taken off again. Like Hazel had said, what has she to come back for? There really is no one here for her now, not even her mother…

This little epiphany spurs me on to action. I start the car and head in the direction of her old apartment, blindly hoping and reasoning that her mother had remained living there and that is where Alex will be. I can do this. I know I can. Because she needs me to.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

It's strange to be walking along the hall of her old apartment block again. It's been so long since I was last doing this, but the familiar god-awful smell of decaying garbage hits me with a freakish wave of nostalgia. Not that she ever brought me back here much. I had only actually entered her apartment on two separate occasions. She was too wary of the atmosphere at her home, the fighting between her mother and her boyfriend.

I had witnessed it first-hand of course, that fateful night when we first kissed. I knew that Alex had a tough time at home, but I didn't appreciate the extent. She had told me about nights she had slept in women's shelters and I thought then, how could your mother do this to you? Even if she was too weak to leave for herself, what about her daughter?

But Alex's mother was an alcoholic, that much was apparent. What made it worse was she seemed so friendly and welcoming when she was talking to you. I had enjoyed chatting to her, joined in her chiding of Alex. But, as Alex confessed to me, there was always an underlying discomfort. That if her boyfriend wasn't thinking on exactly the same level, the two would clash. And then it was, quite literally, hit the decks.

When we had first been together I had harassed Alex to take me home. After my initial panic over our relationship, and how I had pushed her away in fear, I wanted to show her just how much I accepted us as a couple. I wanted to prove to her that I was serious about my feelings. Meeting the folks, well that's a pretty routine way of going about it, I thought.

But Alex kept on putting it off. "Paige," she had said, "Come on, you know what they're like, it'll just end in flying furniture. Or worse."

But I had persisted. Because I knew that wasn't the only reason. I knew that she thought I was too good for all that, for the way she lived and the way she had been brought up. She acted like she was ashamed and I hated it.

"I like you, alright?" I had told her one day as we sat on the front steps of Degrassi, contemplating our evening options. "And, depending on where you stand on the whole nature versus nurture debate, your world helped to shape you. So that means I want to get to know it better."

Maybe it was my continual reassurances that made her finally cave in, or maybe it was her eventual realisation that she was my equal on at least every level, or maybe it was a little bit of nuzzling into her neck as I had said all this, but at last she agreed to take me home with her.

"Fine," she had said with an elaborately audible sigh. "You win. But bring your boxing gloves."

We went back there together after school and as we walked along her corridor I suddenly let go of her hand. She turned with a bemused look, "What's wrong?"

"Alex, you have told your mother about us, haven't you?"

"Yeah," she gave a little smirk as she fished out her keys to open the door. "But she was pretty out of it. I'd be surprised if she actually remembers."

We walked in and Alex padded around the small main room and kitchen. Then I think she went to check her mother's bedroom. "Hmm…guess they're out," she said. "Wanna drink?" She stooped to open the fridge, "We have…. beer, beer, beer and…. water."

"I'm not thirsty," I assured her before flopping down on her couch.

She came over to join me, but as she went to sit she had exclaimed, "Shit! The TV!"

"What? Where is-"

"They've gone and pawned it. I bet you anything. He's done this before, when her cheque's run out early."

She had looked so angry at that moment. Angry and yet totally resigned as she just shook her head in disgust. And so, as a means of distraction, I had suggested she show me around her apartment.

"Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, den," she had said, all the while sitting on her couch and just pointing her arm about disinterestedly.

"That is not a tour," I had scolded her, grabbing her hands and pulling her to her feet. "And as I am a guest, I think you need to be a little more hospitable, so come on."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same, "Fine, but there's really nothing to see."

"And here we have the bathroom," she had said. "Notice the stunning workmanship that has gone into the avocado suite, exceeded only by the quality linoleum flooring."

This routine was carried on for each of the other rooms. My overall impression being that this was not an apartment that had been built not for show so much as function.

We ended the tour in Alex's bedroom. It was less than half the size of mine. I mentally noted a pile of laundry strewn in the corner, which I would never have allowed in my room. Her bed was unmade, the sheets crumpled, I wanted to sit down and Alex seemed to sense this and smoothed the covers quickly.

"You're not exactly the tidiest person in the world are you?" I teased her.

"Well, I didn't know I was having company, did I?" she smiled as she sat next to me.

Our friendly banter suddenly seemed to cease as we sat in a not uncomfortable silence. I could hear the traffic from beyond her window, wafting up from the street below. An occasional blaring radio and a not too distant siren.

Usually when we hung out after school there was endless chatter, TV and cups of coffee, visits to the Dot, and the ever present threat of one of my parents casually wandering into my room. But the realisation of our situation seemed to impact on us both simultaneously. I wouldn't have picked Alex's room as the ideal place for our first time together. But looking back on it, its insular little world on that warm spring evening seemed to be fitting.

It started, as these things usually do, with a kiss. The kiss deepened as her hands found my waist and mine found the back of her neck. We knew, we both knew, what we were about to embark on. I was honestly scared, scared but excited at the same time. It's funny how so many people ask what two women do in bed together. And possibly I was worried when I had thought about it. I am, after all, a planner. I like to know exactly what I'm about. But it really did just seem to evolve in the most organic of ways. Instinct just took over, instinct and passion.

I vaguely remember Alex pulling off my top and kissing my neck and then taking my head in her hands and kissing me fully, as she pushed me back onto her bed. And I remember my hands roaming her back and that first electrifying feeling of our naked skin against each other. I remember her lying on top of me and I remember her clasping my hand against the pillow. But my overriding memory is of the silence. That delicious pause before we got down to it, right until we were gasping into each others shoulders. Every touch and caress and gesture, every time one of us rolled over or on top, every breath was offered up as punctuation to what we were doing. And it made it stark and real and intense.

It was hard to tell when we actually gave in to our exhaustion, and to peel away from where one hand had led into one hip and one breath became two, but gradually our bodies had become our own again and we continued to lie together in perfect quiet. She had stroked my hair tenderly and I had reached up to clasp her hand. We didn't need to say anything at that point, I could tell by looking into her eyes, and I'm sure mine reaffirmed what hers were saying. That in that moment, we were one perfect island, perfect and beautiful in our completeness. I had drifted off thinking this.

The loud slam of a door had shaken me abruptly me from my sleep. I could hear raised voices approaching. For a moment I had totally forgotten where I was, but I felt her arm around me and her breath on the back of my neck. The room was dark. The voices were drunk and angry and nonsensical.

"Is that what you think Chad? Is that what you fucking think?"

I turned my head in panic, I didn't want this intrusion staining my blissful womb-like state. Alex sensed my stirring and lifted a finger to my lips. Warning me. Silence.

"I'll show you what I fucking think!" a male voice, slurred and threatening.

"Don't you do dare. Don't you dare come near me! Lexi! Lexi!" Her mother's voice shouted wildly.

I could feel Alex's arm around me, stiffening with tension. My heart had begun to hammer in my chest at the possibilities of what might happen

"Calm down woman! She's not here!"

"Yes, I can see that Chad! I'm not blind!" Followed by some loud stomping around and then the sound of the fridge door squealing open and the clink of the glass as bottles of beer were taken out.

I turned in Alex's arms to face her and she kissed my forehead then and pulled me close to her. But I wasn't able to go back to sleep.

We snuck out together at dawn. Alex never took me back there again and I didn't ask her to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

My reluctance to knock on her door is increased by the dim glow I can see seeping through from its underneath. Someone's there, even if it's not Alex. I'm still not sure what I'm going to say to her, or even if I have the courage to go through with this.

This indecision that I'm feeling triggers the memory of the day after our first kiss. How I had been so conscious of what everyone might think and how I had nearly given in to that influence. But eventually I had made the right decision and had followed Alex to her apartment with my heart in my hand.

I feel like that again now. Anxiously humble, ready to offer what I have, but fearing it won't be enough. I almost consider that if I wait outside the door long enough, she'll come out of it, like she had on that day, saving me the actual undertaking.

Eventually my fear flutters away as my desire to see her takes over. I give a couple of deliberate knocks on the door, hoping she's in and she will answer it, hoping it's not Chad or a stranger…hoping…waiting….

And there she is before me, her surprise registered only in her eyes, which glow like embers. "Paige." She says my name flatly, looking me right in the eye. The effect makes me feel raw and exposed.

I shake my head, searching for words, "I'm so…so…sorry." I just want to put my arms around her, but her defensive posture warns me off doing this. She seems too guarded for me to make contact with her. For a second it seems implausible that we have ever touched each other, such is the gulf between us right now. It makes my heart ache.

"Are you coming in then?" She asks, turning and walking away, leaving me with nothing to do but follow her, closing the door behind me.

The apartment is littered with cardboard boxes, clothes, papers and general clutter protruding from some of them haphazardly. There seems to be no general order to anything. Alex makes her way over to the kitchen area where dozens of official looking papers are scattered on the table. The kitchen lamp hangs low over them and offers the only source of light to the whole room.

Alex distractedly scrapes her hair out of her face, looking down at them all spread before her. She looks exhausted now, standing there in her old ripped jeans and white tank that I remember so well. "I'd offer you a drink, but I don't really have anything here," She mumbles, as she sits down at the table and starts to rub her brow furiously.

I swallow hard, unsure of what to say next until she looks at me out of the corner of one dark, expectant eye.

"What happened?" I venture hesitantly.

"Cihrrhosis of the liver," Alex replies with a sigh.

"What's that?" I ask, pulling out another chair from under the table as I make to sit down.

Alex gives the smallest of smirks. "It basically means she drunk herself to death." Her eyes flash at mine, full of pain, full of challenge.

"I am…so sorry," I repeat again hopelessly.

"Yeah," she says shaking her head slowly, "everyone is. My cousin Jaime, Mr. Arbrams my boss, Shirley, the receptionist at TSS, Art Sullivan the funeral director…" she trails off.

"When, um, when did it happen?"

"Couple weeks ago. Some guy she owed money to kept on coming here and banging the door down until eventually one of the neighbours got suspicious and called the cops. They found her… The coroner said she'd been dead about two days. She'd been throwing up blood and stuff… He reckoned she'd been too weak to call for help." Alex pauses to let out a peculiar little laugh. "Story of her life really," she surmises.

"My God," I add helpfully. "And, she'd…been on her own all that time?"

Alex nods in confirmation. "Chad left ages ago. Useless bastard. And I- I wasn't here…" she sucks in her cheeks, I know she's trying to hold it together.

"Alex," I say to her gently, "It wasn't your fault." I tentatively place my hand on her knee to assure her of this simple fact.

She sniffs hard, but no tears come. "They reckon she could have had this for years, y'know. Apparently it's hard to detect, and the symptoms only show up towards the end. Vomitting, tiredness, lack of energy. I mean, maybe, maybe I did notice she was getting sick, but," she looks up at me now, her barricades slowly dissolving as vulnerability creeps in, "I just thought it was because of the drinking, y'know?"

I can only lamely nod in understanding.

"I mean, yeah, it was 'cos of her drinking. That's how most people get it apparently, so…" she starts casting her eyes over the papers and documents on the table.

I turn to examine them too. "What is all this?" I ask.

"Social Services stuff. TSS paid for the funeral 'cos she's on welfare, which means there's a whole lot of form filling that needs to be done. That's what held everything up for so long. All this red tape and shit. Just to bury someone."

It all sounds wrong. So clinical, that one human being's life can be reduced to a file in a cabinet drawer. "It's not right is it?" I declare.

"Mm," Alex mumbles, "Yeah, so I had her cremated in the end."

"What?" I exclaim, for a minute not comprehending our talking at crossed purposes.

"It was simpler then having her buried. Besides, I thought I could go scatter her ashes somewhere meaningful, like a park or an off licence or something."

"Alex," I say, knowing that the casualness with which she jokes is her way of suppressing the pain.

"She's over there if you want to say goodbye," she mutters as she clicks her pen on and turns her attention to one of the papers before her.

I look around me to see, amid the boxes and general disorganization, an urn resting on the end table. I instinctively stand up and wander over to it, a morbid curiosity mingling with a sudden desperate sadness. The urn is shaped like a cube and looks like it is made of brass. I instinctively reach out to touch it, but then quickly draw my hand away, not knowing if this is a disrespectful thing to do. I wonder about the contents within, the ashes of a person. The thought sends a shiver up my spine and I immediately feel guilty. This was, afterall, a human being. Someone who was flesh and blood and had thoughts and feelings, and dreams and desires. To be reduced to this, to a pile of ashes. The thought both saddens and sickens me. The finality of it all. The inconsequentiality of our lives, if this is how we end up.

A lone tear rolls down my cheek. I can hear Alex shift in her chair behind me, sensing my silence.

"Paige?" she asks softly.

I swallow the lump in my throat before turning to her. My whole point in being here was to be strong for her. But here she is, eighteen years old, barely starting out in life, and suddenly she has all this to deal with. You were always the smart one Paige, those had been her departing words the day she broke my heart. For all the good it had done me. Who was the one coping now? The total injustice that Alex is facing overwhelms me.

I go to her then and kneel before her questioning eyes. "I _am _sorry Alex. I am so sorry. For everything," for the unfairness of your whole life I want to add, but know I mustn't. She still has her pride and the least I can do is to preserve that.

"And I am here for you. I know I haven't been. And I wish I could change that, but I can't. But I'm here now and I want to help you."

I've inadvertently grasped her hand in both of mine. "No one should have to go through this alone. No one. Especially you." My own words resound in my ears as I realise how the end is mirroring the beginning. I bend down to kiss the knuckles on her hand and feel her placing the other one on the back of my head as she lightly stokes my hair.

"Paige," she half whispers half exhales. I rise to meet her expectant eyes, and pull her up into an embrace.

I clutch her for all I'm worth, like the harder I cling, the more of my intent will translate through to her. She, on the other hand, has a firm, but tender hold of me, one arm rubbing the small of my back, the other still resting on the back of my head. We stand like this for minutes, swaying slightly, like a buoy listing in the ocean.

And when we finallypart, our foreheads are resting against each other's and our noses are touching. My eyes are looking down, but I can hear her breathing mingling with mine. She wipes a lock of hair away from my cheek and the contact against my face resurfaces our old intimacy. Our lips slowly come together, slightly hesitantly, but then more forcefully as the kiss deepens.

It's familiarly reassuring and yet heart-bracingly new at the same time. There is a need in it that hasn't been there before. And gradually she moves away from my lips and to my ear, nipping at my lobe, before moving down my neck, her hands snaking under my top. The surprise is evident as my knees begin to buckle and I grasp the table behind me to steady myself.

What are we doing? I think, I didn't come here for this. But this reasoning quickly evaporates as the fervour takes over. I find myself perched on the table's edge now, Alex standing between my legs, her hands relentless in their exploration, her mouth delicately pursuing my own. And as we start to shed our clothing, a vague flash of reality hits me. The papers, the urn, her mother's stuff everywhere I look, everywhere I breathe.

"Paige. Paige… please…" she looks at me imploringly, as if reading my thoughts.

I can't, I want to say, not like this. But the want is still there, throbbing behind her eyes, clawing at my heart.

I kiss her, taking all of her in as I reach for the belt on her jeans.

She pulls away again, "Not here," she agrees and takes my hand and leads me to her old room.

There's a suitcase open in the corner and an unmade bed. She lies me down on it for the second time. But this time there is no blissful silence. There is the deafening sound of our hammering hearts, the anguish in our cries and the distant thunder of what lies ahead.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The pale early morning light casts a bluish glow over her room. I wake up abruptly, not sure if I have actually been asleep. Alex lies to my side, one arm draped loosely around me, her face registering agitation, despite her sleeping state.

I stare at her for a few moments, her eyelids occasionally twitching, her breathing slow and regular. It makes me wonder what she is dreaming about. I can only hope that she is able to find some form of peace away from reality, but I doubt it.

My throat feels dry and scratchy and I carefully navigate myself out from under her arm to get to the kitchen. She mumbles something subconsciously before turning over. My chest starts to tighten as I look back at her slumbering form. I didn't think I'd see it again, ever be in this position again. To have gotten to touch her again, to wake up next to her again. The number of times after we had broken up where I had wished for nothing more. Where my heart had yearned to almost breaking point at the memories of our last kiss, our last night together, our last "I love you's." I hadn't known in each of those instances that they were the final moments. And how I had cried as I tried to replay every detail, inwardly cursing myself for not having savoured each minute aspect, and how the memories of each would eventually fade and leave me with nothing. The kiss on that park bench in winter had only served as a cruel reminder to what I had been missing.

But as I fill a glass with water over the kitchen sink, a dull panic begins to resurface. I spy my bag next to my shirt on the floor. The sight makes me feel instantly guilty. I go to retrieve my phone from it, desperately praying to have no messages.

Hmm…let's see. Five missed calls, four messages. They're all from Michael. What time are you coming home? (sounds relaxed) Did you get my message, shall I wait up for you? (sounds concerned) Are you coming home? (sounds pissed off) Is everything okay? If you're not coming back, please just let me know (Sounds really worried).

Shit! I'm unsure as to my next move. I glance at the clock on the kitchen wall, it's just after five in the morning. I can't call him now and wake him up, that won't help. And what exactly would I say anyway? I could drive back home and very quietly sneak into bed, pretend I got in just after he went to sleep. Could I actually do that? He's a pretty heavier sleeper and if I'm really really quiet. But could I do that to Alex? Just leave her to face everything on her own in the morning? Despite what I told her, about being there?

Not that in saying that, this is exactly what I had in mind. I look around the room, the chaos, the memories, our clothes on the floor. I guess this is what is meant by the cold light of day. Everything looks different. But more importantly, everything feels different.

I stumble back into Alex's room, spying my jeans in a tangled mess with hers. I look up and she is staring blearily at me.

"What is it?" she murmurs.

I realize that I'm still holding my cell in my hand. My mouth hangs slackly open as my indecision hangs in the air.

She raises herself up to her elbows and focuses on me more intently. My nakedness becomes apparent to me and I start to feel exposed.

"Come here," she says.

"I..I…" I stammer, glancing at my phone again, like it holds all the answers.

"What?" she asks, and then recognition seems to dawn over her face. "The boyfriend." It's not a question. She knows.

"He's down here. He's staying with me at my parents' house and…he'll be wondering where I am. He is wondering where I am," I correct myself.

She looks at me for what feels like an eternity. Into my eyes, into the very core of me. That stare was always enough to freeze me in my tracks. And now it feels like it's stopping my heart too. I wait in anticipation.

"Well," she says at last, her voice like a dagger, "You better get back to him then."

She's done what I wanted and made the decision for me. But my churning stomach tells me it's not what I wanted to hear. I guess I am just a coward. Incapable of marrying my thoughts with my actions.

I know that I can't leave her like this, with all that hangs in the air, all the ghosts…

"Alex," I whimper, my voice straining to finally speak.

She rolls out of the bed and walks straight passed me, not meeting my gaze, and into the bathroom. The door shuts and I can hear the devastating click of the lock warning me to go no further. Shutting me out from her again.

I turn to my clothes on the floor and start to get dressed, embarrassed when I have to go into the kitchen for the remainder of them. I can hear the shower running now.

I go up to the bathroom door and try again tentatively. "Alex? Alex. I'm going now. Do you really want me to go? Alex, please…" My hand is against the door, willing it to open. I'm not even sure if she can hear me over the rushing water. But then-

"Just leave." The harshness of the two words reverberates down my spine.

As I meekly bend to pick up my bag I think I can detect her sobbing. More than ever it breaks my heart. Because I am still incapable of knowing what course of action to take. Because whatever I do nothing seems to be right and someone gets hurt. But in this case, everyone's hurting.

I leave her apartment, closing the door on her solitude and opening up my own emptiness.

ooo OOO ooo

And it's not over yet. As I pull into my driveway the thought of now having to face Michael exhausts every fibre in my being. I wish I had slept longer. Mind you, I wish I'd done a lot of things differently, but it doesn't seem to get me anywhere.

I quietly go up to my room, hoping that maybe I can still sneak in. But he must have heard the car because he's sitting up on my bed, still wearing his clothes from yesterday. I feel like a child who sneaked out for the night and is about to get grounded.

"Hi," I offer.

"Hi," he replies. "Should I bother asking where you were?"

"I told you…" I begin.

"Yeah you told me. You were at your friend's. Her mother died. You thought you'd be late home." He's hunched over with his elbows on his knees, not taking his eyes off my face. "Six o'clock in the morning is pretty late."

"Or really early," I attempt to joke lamely, but I'm just too tired now to even try.

"Paige," he pauses, "Where were you really?"

"What? I told-"

"Don't bullshit me," he snaps, but catches himself and lowers his voice. His look softens slightly. "Were you with her? Alex?"

I knew it. I knew he'd guess. He's too damn perceptive for his own good sometimes. But I can't help but let out a huge sigh, a mixture of exhaustion and exasperation, tainted with relief.

"It was her mother who passed away. I didn't want to tell you, given our…given what happened yesterday between us."

"So you went to see Alex. To comfort her."

"I went as a friend."

"As a friend. And stayed the whole night."

"Michael, please. I know this must be hard for you, but please try and understand."

"Oh, I think I do," he's nodding his head slowly, sadly. He gets up from the bed and picks up a bag. His bag, I notice, and it's packed. "You love her?"

"I…I don't know…" I answer honestly, my head clouding with confusion, my limbs on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

He just nods again, giving a tight smile and slowly walks over to where I stand.

"Tell your parents they have a beautiful home," he says to me. I can barely meet his eye.

He lowers his head to kiss me and I instinctively raise mine, but he pauses and kisses my cheek instead.

"Look after yourself Paige," he tells me before leaving.

I go to my bed and quite literally collapse onto it. I'm too tired to cry, or think, or feel. As the last 24 hours wash over me I willingly surrender myself to the void of unconsciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

My exhaustion is evident through my sleeping through most of the day. For me, the perky, happy morning one, this is cause for concern. But for once I don't want to even attempt to surface and I'm guessing my subconscious is with me on this as it wisely chooses to lay low.

My brother gives a tentative knock on the door in the afternoon. I hear him call my name, but I choose to ignore it and close my eyes again. They must know Michael's gone now, with his car missing. Still, I can't face them like this; I can't face anyone right now.

When at last I do rise and go through the usual ablutions the house is quiet and the sun is hanging low. I wander down to the kitchen, half-heartedly picking at some cereal. I sit alone at the table with my head in my hands, at last contemplating my next move, or trying to put off the inevitable.

Should I give her space? Should I go and see her again? What exactly do I say this time? I need structure, dammit, I need rules and boundaries, not this freefall relationship that her and me have always shared. Yeah, it just about worked in high school, but she was right. We are too different, just how we go about living our lives is different. And now, when I'm trying to be there for her in the most basic and important of ways, we have to go and ambigufy it. Okay, that is not a real word, I know that, but that's about the only thing I am sure of at the moment.

At last, after some reviving coffee and much soul searching I reach for the phone and start to dial. Everyone deserves a friend in times of crisis. And this is no exception.

ooo OOO ooo

"Thanks for coming over so quickly," I mutter miserably.

"Anytime," he says, perching himself next to me on our porch steps. "Any longer watching Dylan's hockey practice and they were about to relegate me to teenage groupie status."

I offer him a wan smile at this, but can muster no more.

"So what's up?" he asks, not mentioning the obvious.

"Michael's left me."

"Oh Paige," He does not sound surprised. "Poor baby, that sucks. Do we, do we want it to suck?"

"Yes," I affirm, but then, "No. Oh, I don't know. Does it? What do you think?"

"Paige," Marco smiles at my indecision, "I wasn't the one dating him, I have no idea what you're feeling. I mean, sure he seemed perfect, I mean he certainly had perfect manners, and really perfect hair, not to mention his arms…woah…"

"Marco!" I swat his shoulder. "This isn't helping!"

"No, you're right you're right, sorry. But what I was gonna say was, maybe he was a bit too perfect for you, y'know?"

I shake my head, "No. Clarify, please,"

"Well…well, I dunno he had…hmm, his teeth. Did you notice that they were just a little too white?"

"His teeth?" I question, not convinced.

"I mean, there's white and then there's, like, phosphorescent."

At last I laugh a little, relieved that I still have a friend who's able and willing to indulge me in the lighter side of life.

"I guess what I'm saying," Marco continues, "is that, you always liked them a little more, rough around the edges, y'know? Michael was just out of the box fresh. Which is great and everything, but…" he looked up at me with raised eyebrows, "Maybe I'm wrong?"

I gave a slight shake of my head. Ah friends, how perceptive they can be over things that have been smacking you in the face forever.

"I don't think you're wrong," I say with a wistful sigh. He puts his hand on my knee as I stare into the middle distance.

"Did you know that Alex was back?" I ask, turning back towards him.

His face breaks into a surprised smile. "No way, how's she doing? Have you seen her?"

"She's-er, she's not so good, but doing okay I suppose," I pause, "Her mother died. She had some sort of liver disease caused by drinking. Alex came back for her funeral."

Marco just let's his mouth hang open in shock for several beats. "Oh my God," he says at last, "oh my God. I can't believe that. That's, Jesus, that's awful, God…" he shakes his head. "How is she coping?"

"Well…" he seems to catch the hesitancy in my voice and I know he can sense there is more to this story. "She's being Alex. Tough girl Alex, y'know? Just trying to deal with everything on her own."

"We should go see her," he says earnestly, but catching my eye as he does, "What? You already did I take it? What happened? Paige?"

I struggle for words. "It… it got a bit complicated."

"Why-did….oooh," recognition seems to dawn on Marco. "Listen, you can tell me to mind my own business or whatever, but…is this in any way connected to Michael leaving?"

I nod despondently. "It's all such a mess. He's left, and I'm just trying to be there for her, but, I don't know, we have this history and it's kind of getting in the way. I don't know what to do."

"Paige," Marco says putting his arm around my shoulder. "At the end of the day, you care about her and she really needs someone in a time like this. So my advice to you, stop thinking so much, just go be there for her."

Thank God for my friends, honestly. Talk about common sense. I thank him profusely and then immediately go to give Alex a call.

There's no answer. I leave it another fifteen minutes. There's no answer. I wage an internal war with myself as to whether I should go around there or not. Eventually I do, but if she's home, she isn't coming to the door. And so I sit outside it and wait, ignoring the vile odour, ignoring the uneasiness in my stomach. I check my cell phone every few minutes on the off chance that I might have temporarily gone deaf and she's been trying to return my calls. But there are no signs of life.

I wait for three hours, two in the hall and one in my car, driven away by the smell. At last I return home, empty-handed and heavy hearted.

ooo OOO ooo

I'm back again, the next day, armed with supplies. My resolve is strong and my hair looks good and so either way I am totally prepared for whatever lies in store. Maybe.

She answers the door with a wearisome smile, her eyes registering fatigue.

"I've come baring gifts," I say tentatively, holding up a bag of breakfasting options.

She doesn't bother to respond but once again turns and goes back inside, leaving the door for me to make my own way in.

"I called you like a billon times yesterday," I tell her.

"I know," comes the reply. Right, this isn't so easy.

The den is still crowded with boxes of possessions and clothes, but the kitchen table lies empty so I put down the coffee and food.

"I came to see if you need a hand with anything," I begin.

"No thanks. I've been managing fine on my own," she shoots back.

Ouch. Be strong Paige, "Well, how about a coffee then. It's just straight French roast," I take the cup out of its cardboard holder and nudge it across the tabletop, "I know how you hate all that fancy stuff."

"Yeah well," she murmurs defensively, "all that shit they put into it ruins the flavour." She acquiesces and picks up the cup. "Thanks."

I nod in acknowledgment. I desperately want to talk to her about the other night, and ask where she was yesterday, but I feel it better to take things at her pace.

So we stand slightly uncomfortably, me against the table, she against the kitchen counter, sipping our coffees in silence.

Eventually Alex looks around at her surroundings. "I have no idea what I'm gonna do with all this stuff," she says with a sigh.

I look too, the task ahead seems immense. But the content to sort through, of an entire person's life, seems too …frivolous almost.

"It's all just crap," Alex remarks almost underscoring my thoughts. "All she left behind, just loads of garbage. I might as well just put it all out with the trash."

"There's got to be something you want to hang onto though," I edge my way nearer to her, "Something that has significance for you…to remember her by."

"I've got enough memories thanks," Alex mutters bitterly. I suppose it doesn't surprise me that she's being so hard about it. She feels this is how she has to be now to survive, strong, emotionless. I know that she's hurting underneath, more than I can understand. But it's this yearning that propels me onwards.

"Well, I can help you sort through it if you like. You can sort out what you want to keep and then, maybe we could take some of it down to the Salvation Army or somewhere. Rather than just chucking it out."

She raises an eyebrow at me. "Okay," she assents.

It's a strange and curious feeling going through someone's life in the form of their possessions. The clothes they wore, the peculiar things they keep hold of. You feel almost like you're spying on their private world, the most intimate of memories could be in your hand and you are totally unaware of its significance. I realise that if I feel like this, over someone I only really had one decent conversation with, for Alex to be doing this must be a whole different kind of pain.

We begin to clear bags worth of stuff methodically. Most of the clothes she wants to get rid of. I am not surprised, they look old and dirty and pretty damn nasty. There certainly isn't anything of value here. Well, not in the monetary sense. But as I'm thinking this I hear Alex give a small, "Oh my God," as she turns to pick something up from one of the boxes.

I instinctively go over to see what the object is that she's fingering. It's some sort of small indecipherable sculpture.

"What is that?" I ask her.

"I'm not exactly sure," she gives a small laugh, "I made this for her when I was in, like the second grade. I think it's maybe an elephant." She turns it over in her hands as I bend in for a closer look.

"It looks more like a kangaroo," I tease her.

"Yeah," she says quietly, distractedly. "I can't believe she actually kept this." Her voice sounds genuinely amazed as she keeps on turning it over in her hands, her smile fading into sorrow.

"Alex, you were her daughter. She loved you." I assure her.

She looks up as I say this and I can see her eyes pooling with tears and her lip trembling. She looks back down almost immediately and I rush to her as she puts a hand over her face as the tears come.

I hold her and try and pacify her with meaningless soothing noises and words, "Alex, sweetie, it's okay, I'm here," and on and on, but none of it really means anything. None of them begin to say what I want to say, or convey that to her.

Her words, in contrast, say everything. As she sobs into my shoulder and I hopelessly stroke her hair and hold her tight, she says it all, "I never got to say goodbye. I just left her here on her own…how could I do that? I mean what kind of a shit am I to…."

"Alex, shhh," I soothe her, "You're not a shit. Don't ever think that. You loved her very much. And she knew that."

"How did she know Paige?" she says desperately through her cries, "If I never told her, then how did she know?"

And even though I know that Alex's grief is fuelling her guilt, the simple question leaves me with no words. And so I just continue to hold her as it continues to hang in the air, unanswered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

We had driven into town to drop of some of her mother's stuff. We were still nowhere near sorting the apartment out, but Alex had said, "I need to get outta here," and I had been only too happy to oblige. The apartment was dark and suffocating on this, a glorious summer's day.

We drive away from the Salvation Army with the windows down, Alex resting her arm on the window frame, her hair blowing back and her shades on. We look like we could just be a couple of carefree friends out for a day's adventure. Just the idea makes me smile inwardly, but I know better.

"Anywhere in particular you wanna go?" I ask, looking over at her.

"Nope. Just anywhere." She doesn't want to go back there. The disease hangs in the air back there. Thinking about it, I'm amazed she can stand sleeping in that apartment, knowing that her mother had died there.

The thought makes me shiver, despite the blazing sun streaming into the car. I notice that I have goose pimples on my arms and take one hand off the wheel to rub at them distractedly.

Alex notices, " Are you cold?" she says in disbelief.

"No. No, not at all," I reply.

She turns back to look at the road. Then declares, "I feel like ice cream."

And so we've parked and bought ourselves a couple of cones, licking them as fast as they're melting in the heat.

For a while we walk along without words and only the smacking of our lips and appreciative noises.

"This reminds me of when I was a kid," Alex pipes up eventually. "I used to find loose change down the back of the couch sometimes and save it up. Go down to the ice cream parlour with this kid on my street." She pauses intermittently to finish her cone. For the first time since she's been back she looks genuinely happy. "God, that could just about make my day back then, her and me, sitting on the curb, eating ice cream, back when summer went on forever…" she smiles at the memory.

"Well, I may not be some girl from your street, but is the ice cream up to scratch?" I ask, still eating mine.

"Not bad. You're cuter than she ever was though. Here, let me try yours, what flavour did you get?"

"Raspberry Ripple."

She takes a decent size bite out of it, enough for me to exclaim, "Hey, get your own!" and pull it away.

She gives me a devilish grin and licks her lips. "Mmm…rippley…delicious."

"Well I guess I'll never know now," I fire back.

This banter goes back and forth for a while and as we joke around I realize how long it's been since we laughed with each other in this way. Laughed, flirted. Whatever you want to call it. But it feels good. Especially to see Alex just enjoying herself for a few minutes, without having the weight of the world on her shoulders. And I also begin to comprehend how my happiness seems to be directly linked to hers. Like it used to be. Hmmm…. that's interesting…

As we drive back I ask her, "So how's New York? Tell me about your job."

"It's not really a job, Paige, it's an internship. And it's okay."

"Okay?" I grin and gesture with one hand for her to elaborate, "So tell me more."

"Well, there's not a lot to tell. Mostly I open mail, send faxes, do all the shit people can't be bothered to do themselves y'know?"

"Are the people there nice?"

"Yeah they're cool." She seems distracted as she runs her fingers through her hair and looks out the window. I wonder if she's starting to feel guilty about this afternoon.

"Yeah?" I prompt her.

"Yeah…some of them are cool," she corrects herself.

"What's your boss like?"

"Well, Mr Abrams, he's like my overall manager and just seems highly caffinated, but okay. June's like my actual supervisor, who I deal with everyday."

"And does she work you hard?" I ask with a smile.

Alex mouth twitches at this, "Nah, she's cool. She's really nice."

Clearly I am not going to get more out of her about this so I change the subject to something less probing. And, to be fair to me, far more interesting. Fashion. But when I mention Helmut Lang I notice Alex's eyes glaze over. Evidently, some things will never change.

ooo OOO ooo

It's evening now and I am returning to Alex's apartment with a bag full of Chinese food. It's been a strange day, strange but important as I'm beginning to finally figure things out for myself. She pushes me away out of pride, bitterness and grief. She opens up to me out of familiarity, friendship and grief. She smiles at me out of familiarity and maybe gratitude. Now it's assumed that I can just come back to her apartment, she even gave me the keys to let myself in. So that's trust right there. Am I jumping the gun, or is this a slow road back to where we were heading before? And I mean the good place, not the whole two different lives stuff that Alex prophesised.

Of course it's still far too early to call this anything, I mean just the rekindling of our friendship is a start, and naturally she would have to sort out her whole internship thing…which sounds like a total blowout…before coming up to Kingston, but I can picture it working this time, really working.

But I know, as I'm twisting the keys in the door, that it's best just to play things at a steady pace for now. Important just to be there for her. We have the whole summer to figure this out together.

"Say hello to a bag packed full of m.s.g!" I exclaim cheerily as I enter her apartment.

She looks up at me in surprise, the phone to her ear and gestures to me that she'll be a minute.

I nod and quieten down, half-heartedly looking for some plates, more as a means of distraction then anything else. Alex goes into the other room, but the apartment is small and the walls are obviously thin. At first I try not to listen.

"Huh? No, that's my friend…" I hear Alex telling this mysterious caller. I'm her friend, that lifts my spirits as my position in Alex's life is officially reconfirmed. "Yeah…Paige….yeah, that Paige." _That_ Paige? What the hell does that mean? That Paige, the perky ex-cheerleader with a killer sense of style I told you about…unfortunately from Alex's tone, I suspect not.

"What? No don't worry. No, June…" Ah ha! June, the manager or supervisor or whatever. Phoning Alex, my soon-to-be-girlfriend-again at rather a late hour for a professional call. Suddenly my interest is peeked. I know that I shouldn't be listening in, but this all sounds a bit too intriguing…

"Yeah…I will…yeah I understand…do you think he knows?" Who! Who knows what? God, talk about questions, why does Alex have to be so monosyllabic during life changing calls that I'm trying to decipher.

"Oh…right," her voice dips to something approaching disappointment, or resignation, I can't be sure. It makes me unreasonably angry with this June woman, for whatever she said that killed Alex's buzz. "No, it's cool. Yeah, of course. No seriously…honey, don't even …Yeah, I completely understand…I know…I will…see you then. Bye."

I rush to get out the trays of food and make it look like I've been busy in the kitchen. _Honey!_ This better not be what I am getting the sinking sensation it could be, because I might just get physically sick on the spot.

Alex re-enters the room and apologises for taking so long, before nonchalantly helping herself to a plate and beginning to dish up.

"Important call?" I query in my most innocent sounding voice.

"My boss, June. They need me back in a week."

What! A week! My heart begins to race at a mile a minute at this thought, my brain goes into spasms and my vocabulary temporarily deserts me. Yeah, I bet she needs you back, I think bitterly.

Of course this could all be a huge, terrible misunderstanding. The thought does occur to me as I begin to appreciate the ambiguity of what I heard.

"So," I begin, putting on my best detective hat, "Do you get on well with June?"

"Yeah. Pretty well," Alex replies, shovelling some crispy won ton into her mouth.

"And does she not think that perhaps, y'know, you deserve a bit more time off? I mean…considering the circumstances."

Alex pauses with her fork in mid-air. "I'll have had three weeks, that's more compassionate leave then most."

"Yeah, but, they're not even really paying you right? I mean you're like practically voluntary." I say this to make Alex see that she is doing them the favour by going back at all. Needless to say, with my lack of discretion she does not take it in the manner it was given.

"Paige! I was lucky to get this job, okay? Yeah, it's not some big deal big business marketing career that I'm sure you're gonna get when you graduate, but it's what I've chosen to do, alright?" She chews her food as she glowers at me before adding, "And I want to go back."

This little disclosure can also been taken in a number of ways. But I see the challenge in her eyes. Hurt me and I'll hurt you back they say. She doesn't want to be with me. She can't wait to get away.

"Are you screwing her?" I blurt out.

Her eyes expand momentarily before she goes into denial, "What? No! Who are we even talking about?"

"June. Your boss. Your boss that you're screwing and can't wait to get back to," I reply bitterly.

She doesn't bother to deny it a second time. She just looks down at the table, her elbow resting on it, her hand against her temple. And the whole time I'm just sitting there in silence, waiting…waiting for her to break my heart again.

"It's…complicated," she says eventually.

"Yeah, I can imagine," I scoff.

"Look, we're not together together, not properly," she murmurs.

"Oh, okay. Whatever. It's obviously none of my business." My chair makes an ear-splitting squeak against the floor as I get up and go to put my plate in the sink.

"Paige, come on, please don't be like this," her tone gets softer as mine gets harsher. I hate it. It makes me sound like the unreasonable one. Am I the unreasonable one?

"No, seriously, it's fine," I start rambling scornfully, "Just go back to your nice cosy little New York penthouse with your boss and sip champagne and publish books and live happily ever after. It's fine."

"Paige, it's really not like that," she says standing now to face me. "She's- she's married okay?"

Well now, there's an interesting twist.

"So it's not like there's going to be a happily-ever-after. Not for me."

I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks as a tidal wave of mixed emotions course through my body.

"You slept with me Alex," I begin. "What was that about? I had found someone, this great, amazing guy and now he's gone because of that night and it doesn't even mean anything to you."

"Paige…" she falters searching for words. But I don't interject, I want to hear this. I need to. "I'm sorry he left. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry about what happened. I didn't think it would mean so much to you. I was just really fucked up. I am really fucked up…"

"Okay, okay you're fucked up. That's great Alex. I mean, that totally excuses everything. So you just go on back to New York now and you continue to let your boss take advantage of you, 'cos honey, that is blatantly what she is doing, and don't worry about me because I will just get over it and go get my boyfriend back and superglue my heart back in from where you ripped it out and pretend that none of this ever happened!"

And I can't let her say anything more to me. This time I get to have the final word. And I get to walk away.


	10. Chapter 10

**a/n:This is most definitely the final chapter of Ashes. A big big thank you to all who left feedback, I was pretty overwhelmed by it all and it certainly helped to motivate me and propel this fic forward. Thanks to all who have read this far and I hope you enjoy this, the final installment...**

**Chapter Ten**

She's leaving in a week. That's seven days, 168 hours, 10, 080 minutes and a whole big bunch of seconds.

I look despairingly at my alarm clock next to my bed. The minute ticks over. That's another one gone, that's another one closer. I turn over in my bed, unable to stand the countdown any longer. How did this happen? Why did this happen? Why were we brought together in the first place? I mean, everyone was surprised, not least of all myself. Everyone thought how unlikely it was. And in the end our differences were just too different. So why were we reunited? Why did I ever think there was another chance? Why am I thinking like everything happened for a reason?

After all, I'm not much into chaos theory. I believe we control our own destiny. Just because events seem random and then lead on to other events which in turn can lead you on to say, breaking up with the boy you thought you'd share your future with in favour of the only girl you have ever loved. I mean, that wasn't connected. That was just coincidence. Right?

That's why it's important to have a plan. To have some sense of direction. This is what I had said to Alex that day at the mall. She hadn't agreed. She didn't want a plan. She wanted to "live in the now" as she put it. She didn't want to feature in my plan, not as some by-product anyway. Maybe I had just tacked her onto it somehow. Maybe I didn't really see a way forward together as we were. Maybe I just didn't want to change my direction.

And so there was a crushing inevitability to the breakdown between us. Just like what happened yesterday. Inevitable. But the hurt is still overwhelming. I hate the way everything has completely turned sour. I hate her lack of justification as to what she did to me. Above all else, I hate that I am holding out hope that she will call me.

I know she won't. I know this really is it. The day ends and I am proved right.

ooo OOO ooo

Okay, this is so stupid! I'm in love for goodness sake, I know this. And here I am, wallowing in self-pity, while she's just slipping away from me.

I resolutely decide that it's time for action. I pick up my phone to call her. It rings three times…. five times…. twenty times…. The monotony mocks my false confidence. My tears start to spill and eventually the operator cuts the line.

ooo OOO ooo

Marco comes to see me. "I've been to see Alex," he tells me.

I say nothing.

"She's really not in a good way, Paige."

I say nothing.

"She told me how she…she…y'know, messed you around. She really feels awful about it. Paige?"

I say nothing.

"She wants to see you before she goes. To clear everything up. Don't you think that would be a good idea? Paige? Don't you think she deserves a chance to explain?"

I say nothing.

"Well, you best make your decision soon. She's leaving on Friday."

Friday? My heart starts pounding uncontrollably, reminding me that it's only dormant, not broken.

ooo OOO ooo

I'm pacing around my hallway, glancing at my reflection in the mirror and generally behaving like a girl who's prom date is over an hour late.

If only it were that straightforward, I think. All I'd have to worry about were stupid things like my dress and my hair, not what I was going to have to say or have said back to me. Wait. Did I just diss fashion? What the hell is happening to me?

The doorbell goes. This is it. I cannot mess this up. I must not mess this up. This is it.

"Hi," she smiles almost shyly.

"Hello," I reply, her nervousness transferring over to me as I step back to let her through.

"Thanks for letting me come over," she hesitantly begins. "I just…couldn't leave it like that."

"Without you getting the last word?" I shoot back. I meant to say it jokingly, but unfortunately it comes out sounding sharper than I had intended.

"Um…"

"Look, let's go through," I usher her away from the hall and into the den. I'm surprised to find my brother in there, watching TV.

"Dylan," I pronounce his name in agitation. He turns his eyes towards us nonchalantly. I make a small "what the fuck?" face at him, he knew Alex was coming over and he'd been briefed on making himself scarce.

"Dylan," I try again, more blatantly, "Alex and I need to talk. In private."

"That's nice. Look it's a Chuck Norris marathon," he says, gesturing towards the TV like we should be impressed.

I roll my eyes at him. "Fine!" I turn to Alex, "let's go to my room." I think I catch Dylan giving a sly smile out of the corner of my eye, but I can't be sure.

In my room the awkwardness continues. I immediately go to sit on my bed, but Alex hangs back, standing uncomfortably and swinging her arms as she looks around. Maybe she thought she'd never be back here again. Maybe I thought it too. Certainly not back like this.

"Paige," she begins, "I just want to tell you…that I'm sorry for what I said." Her voice still seems tainted with nervousness.

"Which part?" I ask, suddenly unable to meet her gaze.

"Just… I think perhaps I gave you the impression that sleeping with you, that it didn't mean anything to me."

"Are you saying it did?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer.

"Of course it did. Paige…Paige, please look at me. Of course it did. You mean so much to me. You always have."

And you always will, I almost expect her to say. This is beginning to sound like the brush-off she'd already given me days before, just worded better. It makes my heart swell, that things just aren't going to work. I try and look at her like she's asked; I have my own pride to maintain here after all.

"But not enough," I say flatly, the lump already rising in my throat against my will.

She comes to me then and sits on the end of the bed. "Paige, it's not a question of how much. I thought…I thought you understood that. You and me, we're just…"

"We're just going in different directions," I finish for her, memorising our previous conversations that have followed these lines.

"Well, yeah," she concedes. I can feel her eyes on me, examining me, waiting for me to start crying, like I usually do.

I just start fiddling with the label on one of the cushions on my bed, unable to find the words, the words that will reverse all this mess.

The air is heavy with the silence between us. Alex sighs a few times, and rakes her fingers through her hair like she always does when she doesn't know what to say. I can barely remember ever feeling as tense as this and in my own bedroom no less. It seems so wrong, so unfair that my last memories of Alex in my room will be of this moment. This horrible, agonizing moment.

This was the room where we had our first kiss. Our first intensely exquisite, frightening kiss. This was the room where we had our quasi-study sessions. That is until they started to descend into full-on make-out sessions. In the end we had abandoned any pretence that my bedroom was suitable for anything academic orientated. This was the room where I had sneaked her up past my parents to spend the night. The room where she had told me she felt safe, the room where I had first told her I loved her, the room where we had never fought without making up.

And now…what would our last moment together in this room be?

"I think," she began at last, "I think…you're probably right about my situation. At work. With June."

That does trigger my eyes to snap up, examining Alex curiously.

She looks tentative, "I mean, she is my boss, and everything. Probably not the best idea in the world," she smiles sardonically.

"And she's married," I add tentatively.

"Yeah," Alex agrees.

"Be careful," I say.

"Thanks," she replies, almost shyly.

Our eyes meet and lock on each others and they tell the whole story. The sadness, the hurt, the love, the need, but most of all, the loss.

"I do love you, y'know," Alex tells me, her voice low, not quite a whisper. "Maybe I shouldn't say it anymore. But, it's always been true. And it's about the only thing in my life that hasn't changed."

I'm not sure how to respond to this declaration. Alex is looking away again. I think back to our night together, when I had gone to her to offer my condolences and we had ended up making love. As unexpected as it had been, I knew what she had felt. I knew that it was more than a desire for comfort in her time of grief. I knew that there had been others for her since then. It was evident in the new ways she touched me, the new ways she looked at me. But I also knew that there was still that connection between us. The one that only we shared.

"I love you too," I reply desperately, the tears really on the verge of spilling now. I pull her towards me into an embrace, holding her like my life depended on it. I can feel them streaming down my face now and can here Alex sniffing hard.

"You better call me this time," she says through her own tears and into my shoulder.

"I will. I promise I will. And I'll write to you. And I'll email you every day. You'll be sick of me."

"And, er," she pulls away from me and wipes at her eyes furiously, "You'll have to come and visit some time. I'll show you 7th Avenue and the whole midtown thing."

"Definitely," I affirm, touched by this offer to indulge my love of all things fashion-related.

We sit and stare at each other for several heartbeats and the kiss between us becomes one of those that seem to have no natural beginning or end, it just always was and always is.

When I try and pull her down with me onto the bed she starts to resist.

"Paige," she warns me, "We mustn't start this. You know we can't finish it. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"I know," I whisper against her cheek. "What time are you going?" My hands are stroking their way up her arms now and the contact seems to be clouding Alex's ability to speak.

"Um," I nuzzle her neck and she leans in for another kiss, "it's the overnight bus. I think it leaves at 8pm."

I look into her brown eyes then, searching her intent and being overwhelmed by my own. "Stay with me tonight?" It's more of a question, still unconvinced if this really is the wisest thing for us to be doing, but entirely governed by my own desire now.

"Okay," she says at last, kissing me again, "but I'll be gone in the morning."

We drift in and out of sleep that night, my heart racing every time I awake, scared that she'll be gone. And every time she's still wrapped up in my arms I have to kiss her to make sure she's real and then we come alive again for fleeting minutes, sometimes hours, before our bodies relent.

In the morning she is true to her word and leaves me, the sweetest of kisses still impressed upon my lips.

I roll over into my pillow and breathe in her scent, unwilling to let go.

ooo OOO ooo

The car screeches into the bus station, as the summer evening draws to a close.

Dylan looks at me warily, "Are you sure this is necessary Paige? I mean, you've already said goodbye."

"I am absolutely positive," I declare amid his protestations.

I find the greyhound leaving for New York, just as the doors are closing. Talk about cutting it fine.

"Wait!" I shriek, barging half my body through the door and glaring at the bus driver.

He, in-turn looks incredibly pissed off. "We're leaving now, that's it."

"I know," I say, boarding the steps and raking my eyes wildly across the passengers, who are all sharing the driver's impatience, before spying her. There on her own, right at the back, with her head phones on and completely oblivious.

Typical, I think with a smirk.

"Look, it's too late to be putting that in the hold," the driver warns me.

"Fine!" I reply distractedly, ignoring his incredulous look as I proceed down the aisle single-mindedly.

That's when she notices. I would like to think it was because we shared this sixth sense with each other, aware of the other's proximity without the need for sight. But it was probably me staggering to the back with an overstuffed pink suitcase that Imanaged to slap several people on the head with on my way down.

"Paige!" she exclaims in disbelief.

"Hi hun!" I reply cheerily as I try to manoeuvre the case without any further casualties.

"What-what are you doing?" she stammers bewilderedly.

"Living in the now," I affirm as I finally reach her and stash my case on the empty seats on the other side.

"What?"

"Alex," I sit down next to her, fuelled by adrenaline and the hecticness of my day I grab her hands. "Listen to me, okay?"

She gives a confused smile in return.

"I am so in love with you. Really really in love with you. And I know it's taken me a while to figure this out, but I want to be with you. So…I'm coming with you. I'm coming to New York."

She laughs at this, "Okay, this is not the Paige Michalchuck that I know, what have you done with her?"

"Hun, I'm right here," I assure her, trying to look more earnest now, "And this is what I want, I promise. So if it isn't what you want well…" I break off as the bus draws out of the station. I see Dylan standing outside his car and waving as we go past. I lean over Alex towards the window and give a big cheesy grin and a wave back. Alex instinctively gives a confused wave also.

I turn back to her as we set off. "Yeah so anyway, where were we? You don't think this is a good idea?"

"Paige!" she shakes her head in disbelief and laughs, "I think it's a crazy idea! I mean, where are you gonna live for a start?"

"With you," I reply smugly.

"My cousin will be thrilled. Another body for his tiny apartment."

"Well, I'll get somewhere else then. I'll get a job."

"Paige," Alex continues to shake her head as she rests her hand on my knee and I immediately go to cover it. "You have your whole future planned out. Banting, remember? Your big marketing career that awaits. This does not feature in your plan."

"Alex, if I've learnt one thing since seeing you again, it's that things happen. Life happens. And it doesn't matter how much you plan and think ahead, sometimes something earth shatteringly huge will just come and shake everything up." I'm thinking of her when I say this. Of how her mother's passing has changed her future. And of how it inadvertently led to Michael and I breaking up. And now this moment. "And you have no control over that. I have no control over that. And all we can do is accept that things change and find new ways of dealing with them. Making some good come from it all. Maybe?" I had been so sure during my little speech, but now there is hesitancy in my voice. Will she still want me?

"What about college?" she asks with concern, obviously still not entirely convinced.

"Well, I heard this rumour that New York has one or two, so," I fish around in my bag and pull out a stack of prospectuses, "I thought I'd take a look. See about getting a transfer."

"And what if you can't? What if you have to wait another year?" She's testing me now. I can tell. She wants to see if this is just an impulse decision that I'll grow out of in the morning.

"Well, we'll just cross that bridge when we come to it," I reply with a smile.

"You really haven't planned this at all have you?"

"No. Don't do plans. Not into them."

She looks at me then and at last her eyes relent and the smile extends to the whole of her face. It really is the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld. And knowing I'm the cause of it, well that does everything for a girl's self-esteem. "I hope New York's ready for you," she laughs.

I squeal in delight as I hug her tightly. The thanks and relief I feel is evident as my body collapses against hers and the emotion starts to seep out of every fibre in my being. "I'm sorry," I whisper, "I'm sorry I was such a long time coming."

She answers me with a kiss. Okay, not a kiss, but THE kiss. The one that conveys all the love, all the security and all the passion that we have between us.

And when we part we lean our foreheads together and pretend we don't notice half the bus that have turned in their seats to witness this minor spectacle.

"It's okay," she says to me, "You were worth the wait."


End file.
